


Gaia's servant

by DIRTandRAIN



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Amnesia, Amnesiac Stiles Stilinski, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Deaf Stiles Stilinski, Drama & Romance, Eternal Sterek, I might be fan of the percy jackson's series, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mage Stiles Stilinski, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Multi, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Has ADHD, Suffering, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:08:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29110563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DIRTandRAIN/pseuds/DIRTandRAIN
Summary: Maybe invoking Gaia wasn't his smartest or safest idea, but at least Stiles could finally see a chance to beat Deucalion. Only, since nothing ever goes as planned, he soon finds himself trapped by forces greater than himself and, forced to deal with them, Stiles will discover the world in a new light.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	1. AT THE BEGINNING WAS THE END

**Author's Note:**

> english isn't my native language. if you want to help with typos, be my guest. if you're here to enjoy the show, please take a sit and don't forget your tissues's box cause i'm a hoe for making your character suffer trope.

In the beginning is _Chaos_ , a deep void, then comes _Gaia_ and finally _Eros_.

That was about all Stiles Stilinski could remember, from what he had once learned from one of his overly theological professors. Well, maybe it wasn't all exactly true. He knew, so to speak, that after that, the gods had all bad-touched each other in order to give birth to the world as it was today, at least for the most believers. No wonder he was so messy he sometimes got caught up in the thought, when his mind drifted a little too far. If even the Gods had allowed themselves to fall into consanguinity, it was hardly surprising after that that nothing was going just fine on this planet. All he had to do was look at his best friend and as well werewolf, to realize that the Gods had frankly screwed up.

At what point did they think that creating a supernatural version of the world would be nice and fun? You'd think Dionysus would have had to double-check the contents of his drinks before throwing them on every corner of the super-divine banquet tables. Otherwise, they wouldn't be where they were today.

 _Stiles, buddy,_ he thought frantically. _It's a big mistake and you're going to die._

Of course, he ignored the bees, too numerous and buzzing in his skull, which had started to scream with laughter. " _Euphemism_!" they were singing. Stiles thought it was about time he consulted a shrink or something.. When this whole mess will be over, of course. When Deucalion would be dead, buried six feet underground. Maybe twelve, to be sure. Stiles didn't really want to test the werewolf-zombie theory.

“You’re doing something stupid, Stilinski,” Mr. Argent said, long after he'd finished drawing the circle topped with various pentagrams, runes and other stuff straight out of a witchcraft book. “We’re not even sure it will work. This is stupid.”

And Stiles couldn't help but agree with him. His idea was geniusly dumb, no doubt about it, but it was the only solution. That's what he kept telling himself over and over again, to convince himself that he wasn't going to tear the Earth apart unnecessarily. Not that he was defeatist, nope. Stiles Stilinski was a great optimist with a boundless sense of humor. Just that the plans he and the pack were putting in place were all too prone to never work. Often because of him and the pack. Too focused on saving everyone, self-sacrifice and cie, their plans never worked because they cared too much about their little band of freaks.

“It will work,” the teenager answered with assurance.

He had not tried to talk about it as little as possible for nothing. There was only one remarkable cold-blooded hunter involved and one... Mage? Stiles would not have been able to tell who Alan Deaton really was. He knew far too much, to be a mere veterinarian. Anyway, there were three of them. The experienced hunter who would have given his life so that his daughter wouldn't be involved, the sorcerer, the one who had all the necessary knowledge, and him, the sacrifice.

Had he ever mentioned that it was about time he consulted? Yes. No. Maybe. 

Stiles swallowed a bitter laugh. What he wouldn’t do in order to save this band of grumpy wolves. To save Scott, his brother and Lydia, the girl he loved. To save Isaac's ass, which he managed to enjoy when Isaac wasn't playing tough guy and even Derek, a.k.a. sourwolf. The mere mental mention of the Alpha made him shudder. Even in his own head, Derek Hale continued to annoy him. Fortunately Deaton came back to them, so Stiles could concentrate on what he had to do.

Summon Gaia, the Mother Goddess, and ask her to rid them of Deucalion.

Stiles stood in the center of the circle after Deaton came to paint ancient runes on the teenager's bare, white skin. The ink was red and sticky, and the Sheriff's son had no doubt what it was. Blood, obviously. He held his disgust-gag and turned his head toward the sky and the full, white and full. He hoped it would work, that they would finally be at peace with their respective families. Then he breathed, closed his eyes and began the divine chant that Deaton had spent days teaching him.

It was a song that was both beautiful and monstrous, as if he was able, through simple sounds, simple words, to breathe life as easily as he could have destroyed it.

_"Oh Gaia, Gaia... !"_

__  
  
The boy's voice echoed, neither right nor wrong, borrowed from his prayers.

_"... Mother-of-All Things, hear my prayers..."_

The breeze rose, cool and harsh, like an Alaskan winter, seeping into the dark mop of the teenager who had spread his arms without even realizing it, like an invitation to the Goddess to come among them.

_"... on whom Life and Death will depend..."_

Deaton moved back a few meters, imitated by Chris, who soon came to put his arm between his eyes and the wind, the leaves and the raging rain.

_"... to build a new era..."_

The singing became more and more inaudible as the storm seemed to become more and more violent. And in all this, the teenager didn't even seem embarrassed, not even out of breath or scared, as if he had never been part of this reality. The hunter clenched his fists. God knows if they weren't summoning an evil spirit. God knows if Stiles wasn't getting it all wrong... His fingers slipped into his holster, his glock container fully loaded. May God forgive him if he were to stop all this masquerade...

The silence returned, with him, the breathless storm and a motionless Stiles Stilinski. It wasn't surprising. Or maybe it was, too much so. But probably not as surprising as the thing that now stood a few steps away from the high school student whose chocolate like eyes stared at the naked silhouette of this ivy-haired woman.

"It had been a long time since anyone had dared to sing my name,” were the first words that the apparition dropped, like a bomb.

The veterinarian held his breath, not sure whether the tone used had been amused, bored or outright mad. Mr. Argent's grip on his gun became tighter. Would he have time to shoot that thing?

“Not even the slightest chance, human.”

At least it had the merit of being clear, thought the hunter without relaxing at all. Stiles cleared his throat, his cheekbones firing at a pale pink. Naked. The woman - it couldn't be otherwise - was, for fuck's sake, naked. How was he supposed to concentrate now? The hormone-filled teenager he was? _Think about something else, Stiles my friend! Naked Scott? Ohw. No. Shit. That's totally gross. Does that make me some kind of inbred? Thinking about my almost naked brother, to avoid thinking about the naked woman standing - naked - in front of me? Shit, didn't I just think about that naked - naked - woman in my head? Have I become a pervert obsessed with the nakedness - naked - of his peers?'_

A burst of laughter, similar to what must have been like the songs of sirens mixed with the screams of a dead man, echoed through the Beacon Hills forest. Stiles gasped, glanced curiously at the woman, and finally struck.

“Indeed, child of the Earth. I am Gaia, since you have invoked its name.”

A smile made of flowers and leaves adorned her face with roots and branches. Her head was now slightly tilted, leaving her ivy moss and flowers still, continuing to fall against her clavicles, along her breasts, running across her flat belly and her thin thighs. Stiles closed her mouth noisily. _Concentrate, damn it. Ask her..._

“I know the reason you called Mieczysław Stilinski,” she cut him off without warning.

If Stiles was outraged, it was only because of the use of his damn name, just enough to stretch a mocking smile at the invocation, and other surprises for the hunter and the wizard

“You want to get rid of the children of the Moon. Some of them, at least. You have to realize that nothing is obtained without nothing in return.”

Stiles nodded. It seemed obvious to him. 

“I am willing to pay whatever the price is.”

“Your life is not worth the life of the Moon children, human.”

And that was new. He who was honor, purity and all that you wanted, wasn't worthy enough ? Maybe if he had had a few bloody murders to his credit, it would have made a difference? Was that what Gaia was trying to tell him? Anger overwhelmed his system like a storm.

“It's not fair,” he hissed. “Deucalion and his pack are monsters! They killed plenty already, not even caring about the harm they caused. And you dare to tell me that their lives are worth anything?”

He let out a bitter laugh., Gaia frowned her vegetable eyebrows.

“The life of a man who is about to kill is no better than that of a man who has already killed. Do you mourn the mouse when the cat eats it?”

“That's irrelevant. Deucalion is not a cute kitten, all he does is rip people’s hearts out of their chests before eating it..”

“He is a wolf.”

“He’s a bloody monster.”

The two living beings stared at each other without even blinking, as if they were about to jump down each other's throats at any moment. Nearby, the two adults had frozen in terror. They were just beginning to realize that Gaia was there, right in front of them; that Gaia was the Mother-of-All-Fucking-Things and that she could probably wipe them off the face of the earth with a snap of her fingers. And in all this, Stiles - Mieczyslaw, seriously... ? - seemed little by little, annoying the Divinity. Driving her mad with rage, forgetting that Gaia was only the one who had built wonderful things, nature among others, the sky and the sea - but also responsible for the great floods. Life and Death belonged to her. 

_This idiot is going to get us killed..._ , Chris thought as he turned his attention to the almost biblical scene. Gaïa abdicating.

“... So be it. The time of the Moon, you will be the guardian of Gaia's magic. Only know, pathetic human, that if you ever dare to take a life with it, your punishment will be equal to your disobedience.”

To say that Chris and Deaton were surprised at how things turned out would have been an understatement. There they would take a few seconds off, give themselves a meaningful look, and when they returned among the living, they would find a Gaia abdicating in the face of the most unbearable teenager of this century. Unfortunately, they had no time to dwell on this thought. The silhouette of branches, ivy and leaves stretched out one of her arms towards the human and the next moment the human was pierced in the heart by a long and luminous hand. After that, he fell down on his knees, hitting the ground screaming as the deity had disappeared. 


	2. REALITY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the aftermath with gaia, some derek being freaky as he always is and too much mention of people's scent, nothing out of normality in here

“This Gaia," Deaton murmured with a hint of disbelief. “She played you, Stiles.”

Stiles nodded, his face white sick pale, as he rolled on his side, out of breath. He had felt them, the bonds of the Earth, merge with his body. Damn it. Gaia - his hands, roots, or whatever you wanted - had come to wrap himself around his heart, tossing it around as one would turn over a piece of soil ready to be sown before planting its seeds. Gagging, Stiles felt no remorse as he threw up at Chris’s feet, who just had the bad idea to step forward to see how the teenager was doing. Needless to say, he regretted his benevolent gesture, while serving the young man with a disgusted grimace.

“Charming Stilinski,” he commented.

Stiles must have grunted a few unintelligible words that weren't really nice, since the hunter raised mocking eyebrows at him.

“How do you feel, Stiles?” Ask Alan.

He'd seen the boy get fucking stab by a magic plant, and then collapsed to the ground like a wax doll. Did he need to point out that all this had hardly been done without a myriad of screams? By this time, Deaton was certain that all the wolves in the county must have heard him and would soon be on their way with their fangs out. And all this for what?

Stiles collapsed when he tried to stand up - like dog poop in the sidewalk.

“Shit,” he swore, flashing an angry look to his legs.

Deaton was immediately at his side, helping him to stand up and then, to stand without falling down, something for which Stiles was grateful. He had tasted enough dirt to last a lifetime.

“What happened? One minute I could hear Gaia's words, the next minute it was as if someone had pressed the mute button.”

“Oh, _that_ ,” said Stiles, breathing heavily.

His gaze shifted slightly away as he replayed the scene, like a slow-motion movie. How could he explain to the man that Gaia hadn't just lent him her magic, that there was a price for any being making use of the divine powers of the Gods? The more he would use this gift, the more he would want to use it, like a strong drug, addiction would come. And just as with cocaine, or other drugs, the effects on his health would come gradually. In what form? Stiles had no idea. Gaia just shrugged her shoulders and said, "Who will live, will see.” Except that Stiles wasn't sure he would survive it. Not to mention that if he were to snatch a life, his own would be doomed to eternal servitude to the Mother Goddess. _That’s just great_ , he thought.

“Stilinski, you’re with us, mate ?”

The teenager jumped a little..

“Yeah... Huh. You didn't miss much. The usual super-narcissistic blah-blah of the Gods who love to freak out poor mortals.”

“You sure? Taking us for a ride would be a very bad idea, as you can imagine.”

Stiles shrugged.

Actually, the idea of taking a step out of line with Chris seemed to him less disturbing than disobeying Gaia. So he let out a big yawn to end the conversation. He didn't even need to pretend to be tired, to be honest, he didn't even know how he had managed to line up more than three words. All he dreamed of now was a hot shower and a good night's sleep - maybe even days, who knows?

“I'll walk you home in that case. I'm not sure it would be safe for you to drive.”

Stiles hadn't even had time to protest, Deaton had - by some miracle - retrieved Roscoe's keys - a.k.a., Stilinski's beloved jeep - and soon waved to the boy to get into the passenger side, which he did not without reluctance.

“Treat her like you would your wife," he grumbled for any warning.

Deaton offered him a clever smile as he climbed on the driver's side and adjusted his position behind the wheel.

“I’m not married, Stiles," he answered, amused.

The jeep stalled badly and the teenager swore:

“Well, imagine it's the tiny-Deaton. You handle it smoothly and flexibly and..”.

“Oh _Lord_ , Stiles... !”

Roscoe started, under the relieved sigh of the veterinarian. How Scott had managed to put up with the hyperactive all these years were the only thoughts the man had when he took the trail out of the forest.

Chris Argent stayed behind and was careful to clean up the traces of the summoning ritual before leaving, thinking that he would have to keep a very close eye on the Sheriff's son. He was convinced that Stiles hadn't told them everything.

Stiles curled up in a ball under his comforter, burying his face in his pillow with obvious happiness. He was exhausted and that was still an euphemism. Yet, no matter how he turned and turned again under his sheets, he couldn't sleep. He had even tested his favorite position - on his side/belly, one arm under his pillow, the other wedged against him, his hand under his cheek and one of his legs, usually the left, since he was leaning on his right side, so curled up that he managed to touch his thigh with his elbow - a big mess among other things. But then again, his mind had decided that he could go fuck himself, too busy spinning his brains at full throttle.

He grunted, rolled onto his back, his arms spread out on either side of his body, he let himself think and stare at the ceiling, finally getting carried away by his thoughts. His thoughts that revolved again and again around one and only one person. Gaia. Apart from the pain he had felt, nothing seemed to have changed in him. He couldn't hear any better, had no great sense of smell, and no great sight. He felt normal if nothing else. Yet hadn't she told him that he would be the guardian of his magic? The time of the Moon, Stiles remembered. Talk about a hint. What was he supposed to do between now and then? Because it was clear that he would have to attack on the next full moon. That's a month, by the way. When Deucalion would be at the height of his strength. A shiver of terror made the teenager curl up on himself. He had no idea what the Magic of Gaia was all about. How was he supposed to use it? Should he just show up on the big day, praying that the deity would not laugh at him? Should he hold out his arms, snap his fingers, or utter a Harry Potter-style super-magic formula?

He didn't know a damn thing about it.

A knock against his window stopped him in his weird theories. With an exhausted grunt, he crawled out of bed - holding an expletive when his muscles pulled painfully - and walked to his window, which he opened in a mood. He was surprised to find Derek clutching the gutter as if his life depended on it. _This house won’t survive,_ he thought to himself with some annoyance.

"The doors, Hale, are not made for dogs.”

The wolf growled for any answer, pushed Stiles away so he could slip into the teenager's room with ease.

“Please make yourself at home. Tea and cupcakes maybe?”

“Stilinski. Shut up”.

“ _You_ shut up! Where do you think you are? You do you think you are ? Get outta here. Now is not the time to be a pain in my ass.”

A large, warm hand slipped against his lips, preventing him from finishing his sentence. With his other hand, the werewolf motioned to him to shut it. The light in the hallway had just turned on and the heavy footsteps of Sheriff Stilinski walking up the stairs could be heard. Derek growled when he perceived the boy's attempt to signal his presence.

“Shut up, Stiles. It's important, we need to talk.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. _Come on_ , his face seemed to tell. _How often do you break into people's houses when you want to talk to them? Don't you know how cell phones actually works? Stupid mutt._ Derek thought that even quiet, Stiles was a goddamn chatterbox. How the hell could one face tell so much?

“Everything’s okay, son?”

Derek moved slightly away from Stiles, glaring at him.

“Just fine, Dad.. I'm heading to bed, I'll see you in the morning”

There was a moment of hesitation, an exhausted sigh and Noah Stilinski nodded, wishing the boy a good night. Stiles turned his attention to Derek, eyebrows raised and arms folded against his chest.

“I'm waiting," he said as if it wasn't obvious enough.

The wolf growled, unsurprisingly, before slowly approaching. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes, usually green, now tugged at the red so slightly that Stiles could not be entirely sure. Suddenly, Derek Hale started sniffing him.

It was immediate, Stiles pushed him back into his stomach, although he doubted that he had actually hurt or even grazed Hale, and gave him his most exasperated look. The wolf retreated back, not without thundering his younger brother's gaze.

“What?” He grumbled with his deep tone.

Stiles shivered for no apparent reason.

“What? _What?!_ He dared to ask. Are you kidding me ? People don't sniff each other, sourwolf. If you think I'm going to sniff your buttwhole, you're barking up the wrong tree.”

That's why Derek limited contact with humans in general. They were idiots and incapable of understanding. Where the wolf used his sense of smell to find his way, the human neglected it. Men were stupid. So he decided to act as if the hyperactive had not just opened his big mouth once again. What he wanted to know was _why_ and _how_ Stiles’s smell had changed. Not if he was going to sniff him out, what was that again? The buttwhole? He wasn't a fucking dog, for God's sake.

“You don't smell the same anymore," Hale mumbled without any delicacy. “Why don't you smell the same?”

And he started poking around in the teenager's room, frowning at the sight of a deodorant, which he thought camouflaged the smells in a very unnatural way, and an eau de cologne, the one he usually smelled over the natural smell of the boy's skin.

“Um.. Derek? Did you smoke something before you came? Cause you're freaking me out.”

“What have you done, Stiles...," Derek replied with something like pain within his voice.

Stiles was surprised. At least as much as when the Wolf came closer, until their two torsos touched. _Holy Mary Mother of God, this dude is hella crazy._

“The whole forest carries your scent, Stilinski. You carry the smell of the forest, of _home_. So I’ll ask you once more, what the hell have you been doing?”

He could almost see wolf’s fangs from where he was, feel the breath of the man on his nose, its wild scent - the smell of the earth after the rain and that something beastly. Stiles made a frightened throat sound. _He's going to eat me,_ he thought. _He's staring at me as if he's going to eat me._ And probably rightly so. Hale's pupils were so dilated that they looked black. In his head, the Wolf cried out: _home! home! home!_ And Derek had to refrain from placing the human against a wall to smear it with his own scent, the scent of his pack. Then the wolf growled, pushed the teenager away without consideration and as Stiles fell to the ground, the man ran away, without even waiting for the teen's answer. The very one who didn't seem to suffer in the least from his violent fall. Under his backside, a large carpet of foam had spread out, cushioning his fall. Lichen? Stiles stared at the greenery on the floor of his room, his mouth wide open.

Damn it. How was he going to explain this to his father?

* * *

When he woke up the next day - not exactly on time if you’d asked me - Stiles wondered if he hadn't dreamt the whole thing with Gaia. His muscles were no longer aching like hell, the lichen mat had disappeared from his room and he was feeling good. So putting his strange dream aside - he really had to stop watching shows so late - he shifted into fourth gear in the shower, quickly grabbed something to wear, quickly put on his red hoodie - his favorite by the way - and went through the kitchen to eat something solid before leaving the house, which he had to enter again when he realized that he had forgotten his school bag and car keys. Once inside the house, he allowed himself to breath for a long time. No matter how hard it rained, you'd never know why he was in such a damn good mood.

 _Wait until I tell you about my dream buddy, you won’t believe this !_ He thought with a certain amusement. He drove off and set off for his high school, singing the catchy tune by _Chelsea Dagger_ , from the band _The Frattelis_. He probably looked like a crazy man with the windows all open and singing at the top of his lungs in his car, but Stiles being who he was, he didn't give a damn. He easily ignored the strange glances he received as he turned off his engine in the school parking lot. His school bag over his shoulder, he slammed the door, locked the car and walked quietly inside the building, indifferent to the rain. Nothing could have marred his good mood.

Nothing, except for Scott who arrived with a smile, which he lost for a curious pout.

“Hey Stiles, we weren't expecting you anymore,” said the Mexican, squeezing his shoulder with one hand.

Further on, Isaac and his dog gang gave him strange, curious looks. Scott coughed, good simulator.

“Uh.. Dude. Did you roll around in the mud before you came?”

Stiles raised his eyebrows, looking like he was clearly asking if he wasn't kidding himself. The schoolboy looked a little embarrassed.

“You don't feel the same anymore. I mean. You smell like the woods and uh... like _home_ ," he said like he was sharing a secret.

Stiles’s frightened face made a voice burst out laughing in his head _._ _Hilarious,_ it murmured. _Humans are hilarious_


	3. EURYDICE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where things gets weird

Basically, Stiles was still having trouble believing that he had been able to get away with it in such a simple way. It was, among other things, as easy as stealing a pacifier from a baby. Or maybe his best friend was just incredibly naive? Yes. Okay. Maybe Scott was a damn good target for every nutty storyteller. But hey! Stiles wasn't going to complain - especially since he'd still managed to get the Mexican to believe that he was testing a new mud and herbal skin cream that was supposed to calm his hyperactivity. Scott had raised his eyebrows, patted his shoulder with an engaging smile and let him know that it was  _ cool  _ even though everyone had gotten used to it by now. As for the rest of the pack, well... I guess Stiles' quirks were so frequent that they decided not to be surprised by anything anymore and to act like everything was normal. Stiles was almost offended by this. He was always a little more surprised to see how his genius tended not to be recognized. Then he had mentally slapped himself, remembering that this famous mud mask was non-existent anyway and that therefore all his monologue about being misunderstood had been useless.

A normal start to the day for Stiles Stilinski, moreover.

The rest was much less normal and usual. At least, if hanging out with werewolves or banshees could be considered normal. Had he ever made it clear that he was a human being? No ? Yes ? Because no matter how much he spent the day like an old tape movie, he still couldn't understand how the hell he could have come to talk about astronomy with a ficus. A fucking  _ ficus _ . The same one that must have rotted in the back of the economy classroom, forgotten by the Coach probably from the very beginning.

Stiles sat on his chair, as far away as possible from the desk of his heretic economics professor and, incidentally, his Lacrosse coach - even if tormentor was more accurate - eager to make himself forget the time of a class. He was still rethinking his non-dream - the very one where he had decided to think he was a Winchester and invoke Lucifer (Gaia) to kick the ass of a pack of wolves - when the bell announcing the beginning of classes rang. Then Bobby Finstock had arrived with his usual pomp and circumstance, his face marked by the disgust that his students inspired in him - even though everyone knew that deep down, the Coach liked them even though he pretended otherwise - and the arrogance that befits him so much.

“Alright people," he said, as soon as he finished with his: "Shut up you morons.”

He carried his coffee cup with his own effigy on his lips while he let his gaze linger on his class, probably looking for a student to bully at the beginning of the class. A victorious smile quietly adorned his lips as he noticed that Scott - his all time favourite scapegoat after Stiles - was just about to look at his best friend, who had been avoiding him and the pack all morning. Bobby didn't even pretend to hold back his mocking giggle.

“Something wrong with McCall? Your relationship with Rasowsky is falling apart? Come on, everybody, thank McCall and get yourself some paper to write on. It’s essaie time. It’s what y’all get for exchanging sweet glances in my class, you bunch of losers.”

There were grunts, eyes raised to the ceiling and Lydia smiling slightly with a mocking glow in the green of her eyes.  _ You really don't know how to live without each other, _ they seemed to say. Scott would have stood up if he hadn't been sure to take double rations from Finstock. Instead, he grumbled into his non-existent beard and found himself a paper to write on, leaving Stiles and his outraged face in the back of the classroom.

The same one who, for once, had done nothing. 

_ I hate that guy, _ he thought to himself, fumbling around in his bag with energy.  _ Couldn't he let us off the hook sometimes? You'd think he really has nothing else to do, but no. What an ass.  _ And he continued to mumble inside for the first twenty-seven minutes of the test, as much against the Coach as against his bullshit economics topic. 

_ But what is it with these questions? Damn, we've never seen that in class before! _

Stiles, at his top of his nerves, rolled his eyes as he re-read the first question he had been working on more or less all along.

  1. **In a structured and reasoned note, set out the restrictions on the use of ICTs imposed on the employer with regard to recruitment and the control and monitoring of employees.**



He tilted his back against the chair’s backrest, his head moving towards the green plant that had looked like a decoration since the dawn of time.

“You're some llucky girl. Here you are, sitting quietly and doing nothing all day. Awesomeness,” he blew gently, about to refocus on his assessment, when the leaves of the ficus suddenly moved. 

For a moment he thought he had totally hallucinated, when a face seemed to appear in the trunk.  _ Stiles, buddy. You need to get some serious counselling _ , he thought, holding back a nervous laugh. But then the plant replied in a reprimanding tone.

_ Yes, that's it! Insult us, plants, because they are not capable of feelings! They are only decoration after all, aren't they? Yeah, let them die in the back of a dusty classroom with a bunch of retarded and disrespectful childrens! You pretentious asshole! Piece of shit! Imbecile!  _ She squirmed and gently wiggled her leaves, as if a draught had suddenly infiltrated the room and started to waltz between her leafy limbs.. _. _

Needless to say, Stiles was speechless. Needless to say, Stiles was stunned. And if he thought it would end there, he was not happy, since the ficus started again in a kind of hate speech towards humans and pro-Gaia. The name barely uttered by the plant made him shudder and his skin seemed to be running with an electric current. The ficus immediately stopped speaking, staring at Stiles with what he imagined to be a shocked look. The plant shook its leaves as if it were shaking.

_ Oh, she did it. I didn't realized that Gaia... Anyways.. Oh. By My Mother. A Man with the magic of.. _ .

It seemed to blow through a small hole there in the bark, mumbling through her foliage.

_ I do miss ol’ times sometimes. _

Stiles blinked.

“Ugh.. So..You're talking," he said, looking around him, certain that his comrades had heard.

But everyone seemed to be immersed in Finstock's assessment, and sometimes a few half-tone swear words were heard. In spite of himself, an ironic smile stretched the corner of his lips. He was obviously not the only one struggling with the subject. Something to please him rather, if you wanted the people's opinion. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to be satisfied with that, since Ficus seemed to throw a branch at the top of his head. He uttered a surprised scream as he glared at the potted plant.

“Oh, seriously?” he hissed under his breath..

_ Stupid human, _ the plant replied.  _ Stupid human who doesn't know anything about anything. _

The Sheriff's son looked up at the ceiling.

“But hey! Why can I talk to a plant? Why now and wait. Aren't you a hallucination? For sure it's that mud mask, here!”

Another bang and a few muffled screams later, and Stiles would start grumbling in his non-existent beard again.

_ That's what happens when you're a bearer of the Power of Gaia, young idiot _ , to him the plant.  _ One becomes the eyes and ears of nature and the other way around. _

Good. At least he was definitively fixed about this story of pseudo satanic ritual. Although. He ticked at the words of the plant.

“Wait a minute. What do you mean by that? The eyes and ears of nature? Seriously, what do you mean?”

Okay. That story was getting a little bit weird. Was George - he had decided to nickname the plant that way - implying that he was going to have to go through all the plants' moods?

_ Yes. You're going to feel everything we feel as we will be able to feel you. We're connected, you idiot. Your life is ours and ours is yours.. Although I'm still wondering why Mother decided to inflict such a punishment on us.. _

And Stiles thought that he was in deep, deep shit. He wanted the strength to defeat Deucalion.. and now he found himself in the shoes of Tarzan. He started to laugh. It might have sounded a bit hysterical, tho.

“It's a joke I hope! I'm not going to..” but someone interrupted him.

He fluttered around and turned to the economics teacher, to the whole room, who was now staring at him as if hesitating between laughing at him and sending him to an asylum.

“You're not going to what, Stilinski? Finish your conversation with this friend of yours ? The plant? Did it at least give you the answers to the evaluation? Oh? No? I wonder why it didn't.”

The human was slightly startled, his eyebrows furrowed and a disappointed pout on his face, while the class burst out laughing. Ah. Well, there he was looking like the village’s fool again. He rolled his eyes.

“In fact it's a ficus, sir,” he boasted.

George shook his leaves as if to tell him to shut up. Not really helpful since Stiles being who he was, was more than willing to open his mouth even when he didn't have to.

“But I'm just saying.”

Stiles in a nutshell. An uninteresting course which had earned him an hour of detention... And a new buddy who was a bit too fond of insults - if you wanted his opinion, but who was he to judge people or plants, after all, eh? The fact was, he was going to have another conversation with his father - the serious ones, the ones that always ended in one:  _ Son, daydreaming has no place at school! Or: Stiles, are you sure you're taking the right dosage of your medication? _ All of this sprinkled with a suspicious look. As if the idea of taking drugs with his own pills had ever crossed his mind... Or maybe it has. But that wasn't the point. He strongly doubted that the Marijuana Mud Mask excuse would work with the city sheriff. But never mind.

It was time for lunch, and Stiles was already letting the pack behind, with the idea of getting to the bottom of this whole thing. Scott was probably too busy cooing with Allison to notice his absence anyway. As for Derek's doggies, bullying the rest of the high school population seemed like a full-time job. So Stiles found himself wading alone in the huge puddles that had been created by the overwhelming downpour that had crushed down on the town of Beacon Hills that morning. With his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt, he set out for the forest that bordered the high school, the same forest where so much had happened and which surrounded the town like a green trap. _ I'm everywhere, what did you expect? _ Blowed a voice in the back of his head. Stiles began to think he was going crazy - not only had he learned to disguise the voice of his own conscience - as he walked into the woods. When he was far enough away, but not lost in the middle of nowhere - he began to scan the trees, ferns, flowers and even the grass as if he had never seen them before, as if it would only take one look for everything to suddenly reveal itself in a new light, as with the plant. But nothing happened. He just stood there, soaked, in the middle of the forest, waiting for a fucking tree to speak.

He was clearly going off the rails.

_ And he calls himself a genius,  _ laughed the woman in his head. 

Stiles grunted slightly as he shot into a pebble, looking a little off.  _ Yeah, well, if I'd been provided with a Gaia trainer's manual it would have been easier, _ he replied mentally, repeating his shot. The pebble had then flown, bounced off a tree trunk before coming back to his face as suddenly as that. All around him, the forest became agitated and the wind whistled so loudly in his ears that he was convinced that nature was laughing at him.  _ Watch your mouth, Child, _ he heard everywhere and nowhere at once. He rolled his eyes, probably more jaded than ever. 

"Well, if her  _ majesty  _ would deign to come down and give me a hand or two it would be really cool. Kind of. Really," Stiles said orally, staring suspiciously at a shrub, inwardly persuaded that he was, having seen it move.

He had a moment of hesitation, as the teenager added with obvious bad faith.

“Please... I really feel like I'm going mad there. And I'm not talking about Max, like, Mad Max okay? It's irrelevant.

Behind him, a rustle of leaves made him turn around, his hazelnut irises resting on the wide trunk of the old oak tree. The voice was slightly more distinct and crystalline this time and, without really knowing why, Stiles was convinced it was someone else.

_ Before trying to use Gaia's Magic, you have to be able to see Gaia's magic, _ she told him. 

Needless to say, it hadn't gone any further than that. He had frowned, looked around, before grumbling in frustration:

“I can't really open my eyes any more than they already are.”

And, with his eyes wide open, he had swept his space with his gaze, without finding anything magical. Then the voice seemed to sigh, half bored, half exasperated, and for sure that if it had been there, Stiles would have sworn whatever what here with him, had rolled his or her eyes.  _ Do you even want it? _ Stiles rolled his own eyes this time.

“Well, obviously I'm not here to pick mushrooms.”

Although that would have given him an excuse for his strange behavior with his teachers...

_ Your head desires what your heart is afraid of, Child _ , she said again. Stiles replied immediately, abruptly:

“It doesn't make sense. My heart and my head belong to me. And I want to understand, I want to know.”

_ Then in this case, all you have to do is see. _

“But I can't see anything, damn it!” He began to get annoyed.

His face, which had taken on a slight red hue under the annoyance, now seemed scarlet under the anger. Before he could add anything more, the crystalline voice resumed - as if equipped with unfailing patience.

_ You look, but you don't see, Child. Don't look with your eyes. See with your heart. See with your soul. See with your senses. See with the breath of the wind. See with the rustle of the leaves. See with the chirping of the birds... _

Stiles had - at least in part - taken his mind off what the voice was telling him. She hadn't stopped talking, making her list a little longer and longer, but now it was all just a vague background noise in Stiles’s head as he kept telling himself that none of it made sense. He was clearly under the influence of drugs or whatever. Probably his father was even going to show up with an armed team, to force him back to Eichen House - the place where he had invented all those supernatural adventures. He was seriously freaking out - between talking to the trees and hearing voices, frankly, one could not decently do worse. And yet, he couldn't help but do exactly what he was told to do.

With closed eyelids, he let his mind wander as he knew how to do so well. He could hear without any difficulty the powerful wind blowing and the raindrops hammering the ground into an uninterrupted symphony - the sinister creaking of branches and imposing trunks, not to mention the various and varied rustling, coming as much from the bushes at ground level as from the leaves there, lost in the skies. Anyone could have sensed all this, he said to himself, clenching his fists. The caress of the wind on his face, however, quickly loosened him up and he blew himself out of his nervousness and fear. Then suddenly the wind became song and the earth rumbled and he thought for a moment he heard a bird whistling the impressed air on a:  _ Good job _ , encouraging. He then opened his eyes and almost flinched when he saw it.  _ Her, _ the owner of this calm and patient voice. Her green mane sprinkled with flowers that flowed in a dense mass along her naked body and painted in the same hue. A crown of oak leaves hugged her forehead, refining her face, and her amber eyes seemed to glow brightly. On her pale lips, a gentle smile was addressed to her. He saw his naked breasts and his flat belly half covered by an opaque veil - as if made of water and hiding his probable nudity - Stiles really didn't want to know - and he saw the lower part of his body, as if melted into a very old oak tree. A word immediately came to his mind.

Nymph.

A nymph who gave him a beautiful smile - just enough to make his heart beat wildly - looked particularly amused. The thin fingers she had placed against his cheeks - who was then convinced that it was the caress of the wind - fell down along his body and the next moment she was standing upright in front of the teenager, who was then separated from his oak tree. Stiles was still gawking, his jaw hanging down, and it took awhile for him to recover.

“What the..,” stammered, looking totally lost and hysterical. 

The lady made of plants was probably not the only one to have appeared under his frightened glance. Everywhere, he could now see female faces in the trunks of trees, melting into and out of them with the curiosity of small children, seemingly hesitating between being thrilled to have a new friend to play with, or being suspicious of him. The forest was full of nymphs. Nymphs and many other spirits who gradually came out of their hiding places to start dancing around him. Tiny figures made of air began to lay a multitude of flowers of all kinds on his hair and soon he could not move his head without one of them landing on his shoulders, making the little mutinous silhouettes laugh out loud.

In the distance, he even saw a fox, his clever glance planted in his and seemed so ... Significant.  _ New? You come and play ? _ , he seemed to ask. Stiles had his jaw down the floor. He turned to the one who seemed to be the Chief, for want of another word, his mouth not being able to decide between staying closed or staying open. Finally, he babbled.

“How is that even..” he sutters. “What in hell..”

The Nymph burst out with a crystalline laugh and Stiles blushed immediately. There he started to swear, it was downright average in front of... In front of whom exactly?

_ I am Eurydice, _ said the nymph… - well, the Dryad to be exact, - without even opening her mouth.  _ Welcome home, bearer of Gaia’s magic.. _


	4. IN THE SHADOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where people are being assholes, where stiles think about getting cast on the next disney movie, where thing gets painful

_Welcome home_ , she said.

As if the forest was his home, as if he had already moved there with all these creatures, each one stranger than the next. Stiles could have sworn he saw a little something malicious in the fawn eyes of the dryad - Eurydice, she'd said - as if once again she knew something he did not. And if there was one thing that annoyed Stiles, it was the fact that he was being ignorant. So he just stood there, looking her straight in the eye with the look of some guy trying to probe her mind.

Severus Snape would have been proud of him if he hadn't been a fictional character, thought Stiles with irony.

Eurydice smiled before reaching out to him to encourage him to move a little further into the clearing. The little wind creatures had stopped smearing his hair with flowers, returning to their occupations probably - although he could still see a head or two here and there. He hadn't even tried to get rid of his flower crown. Seen as he was currently being spied upon, he had little doubt that the little wind creatures would come back as soon as he regained his usual physique. So Stiles wisely kept his hands along his body as he finally made his way into clearing.

"You don't have to be afraid," resounded the voice of the dryad in the human head.

He rolled his eyes.

"I'm not," he growled.

Then, Stiles jerked and frowned.

"Can you stop doing that tho? I mean. Talking to me without moving your lips. I haven't really felt sane lately, so hearing voices like that in my head all day long isn't really something I appreciate much and..."

Eurydice burst out with a crystalline laugh - exactly the kind of laugh Stiles had imagined for her, flawless, incredibly beautiful - cutting off the high school student's speech, which did not seem to take any notice of it. The sight of a Dryad laughing out loud must have been incredible enough to make him deign to forget his own words.

"You really are an interesting human being," she said between laughs.

Just enough to make Stiles' face appear red. She pursued, however, as if she hadn't noticed anything:

"Usually, humans get scared, run away, threaten us or try to take our powers..."

Stiles interrupted her, disturbed:

"Well.. That's a bit what happened, right? I mean. I asked Gaia to lend me her strength. It looks pretty much the same to me, doesn't it?"

"That's where you're wrong, Mieczysław," she explained in the tone of a secret, an argument immediately dismissed with a wave of the hand on behalf of the said Mieczysław.

"Nope. No. _Nein_. I won't work. Stiles. My name is Stiles. You can try if you want. It's: Ssssssstaaaaaaillllseuh. Seriously, no one's called me that since, like. More than ten years? It's so weird now! It's like I'm calling you Ikhaterina. It's super annoying. And long and nobody's probably ever called you that. You know what I mean? Just like me. Except for my parents, but they weren't really sane now that i'm starting to think about it. I had a point to all this... Uh... yeah. Stiles. That's my name. Well, it's my first name, 'cause my last name is Stilinski. My name's not stiles stiles or Stilinski Stilinski. Or even Stilinski Stiles or Bilinski - really. Just Stiles. Stiles Stilinski. Like Bond. James Bond. But without the 'James Bond' because I'm not James Bond but Stiles Stilinski.”

Stiles took a deep breath, his cheeks red from talking too much and almost dying of asphyxiation. Then there was a moment of hesitation. A long one. A fairy passed by, accompanied by a doe and one of the many wind spirits - then fire, like fireflies in the night - and Eurydice kept her gaze fixed on the human face, as if hesitating between laughing and crying.

“Right," she said, a smile still stretching her mouth.   
  
Her eyes hadn't stopped glowing with that mischievous glow. Stiles shrugged before looking away. Damn it. He had come with a very specific idea in mind and now what? She had managed to mislead him with just three words. He shook his head, his fingers slipped into his hair, which was beginning to get really long, and flowers fell down as he started rubbing his fingers in his hair.

"Home?" he finally asked, referring to the Dryad's own words earlier.

The Dryad nodded.

"Your present status makes the kingdom of the Earth your home until Our Mother decides otherwise," she told him softly, as if she was talking to a doe that she was afraid to rush.

Stiles frowned even more.

"Don't wanna sound rude or anything but I already have a house, don't you know?"

"You'll soon realize that the two have nothing in common Mieczyslaw."

He rolled his eyes again.

"How that?"

"That's for you to find out, I'm afraid."

Without realizing it, they had started walking through the forest. The clearing was now behind them but not out of reach. They ended up being silent. Not really an uncomfortable one, but not peaceful either. Stiles had a lot of questions, he wanted to know everything, from the smallest creature to why and how it was happening. Why the magic, why the Dryads, why the talking plants, the lichen carpet, the smell of home, why the fairies, why the little creatures made of earth, why all this.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do now," the boy suddenly admitted.

He was realizing it, little by little. It was nice to have had the support of the Gods. But now? What was he supposed to do? It was the same old story, over and over again. Was he supposed to wait for the next moon? Continue to act like a normal high school kid? Like nothing ever happened? Or prepare for his fight-to-come with the Alpha pack? A smooth sensation, as if someone had started pouring milk or cotton on his skin, made him lift his head. Eurydice was standing in front of him, smiling as always and, in the palm of her hands, she cupped his face.

"There is such pureness in you," she breathed in awe. "Your desire to protect your peers is strong. Stronger than I've ever seen in any human. No ulterior motives, no final goal. You don't seek to do good for glory, not for laurels. You act out of love, out of compassion, out of grief, out of sorrow. You sacrifice yourself without even question, so that others may live. Do you have any idea what that makes you?"

The emotion in the voice of the dryad made him shudder. She sounded like she was in pain, uncertain and desolate. Stiles gently shook his head, with the impression that if he opened his mouth, she would start to cry. It was so strange. How could she go from laughter to tears in a matter of seconds ? he wondered. Fingers made of foam and flowers ran across his face as Eurydice finally found her smile.

"That makes you the purest creature in Creation. And Mother knows how many things were said about them, about their gifts and what they were capable of. You have a bright future ahead of you, Mieczyslaw. Do not ever doubt yourself or your abilities. Decisions you make or will make. Deep down, you already know what to do, deep down, we already know how it will end."

Stiles got the message. He hadn't added anything, he hadn't shouted, he hadn't blown. He had nodded off a little and they had turned around. The clearing appeared to them again under the bright sun that marked the zenith. It was like rain never had poured in the morning.

With an engaging smile, Eurydice had beckoned him to come and sit there on the wet grass and, not without grumbling just for the sake of it, the teenager had obeyed, curious.

Immediately, a bird had come to perch on his shoulder and then a second one, chirping happily, even a small fox had shown up at the edge, without ever coming near. It had been like a parade after that. Rabbits, butterflies, mice.. He had the impression that all the small fauna of Beacon Hills had come to see him. It was just unbelievable.

"They recognize their Protector," said Eurydice as she laid down against the grass.

Her hair made of all colors of flowers and other twigs had spread out over her head like a halo, and a few birds had soon abandoned the human in favor of this new niche. Stiles almost had pout.

"I don't really understand what that means," he confessed again, pensively pawing one of the downy ears of a rabbit that had finally fallen asleep, lying against his side.

"I might frighten you if I say that they think of you as a mother figure."

Stiles' face immediately decomposed and the Dryad burst out laughing.

"Don't worry, that's not it... At least not really."

Silence fell again. Stiles looks hesitant, squinting softly at the small creatures that had taken up residence at his side. Eurydice, however, did not wait too long before enlightening him.  
  
As she smile she said : 

"Think of it as Winter. Everything is cold and hard sometimes, especially for them.Less food, more chance to fall asleep without ever waking up..."

Stiles shivered. Or maybe it was the rabbit that had raised its little snout towards him?

"Well, you're like the sun. A Big and Warm Sun in the middle of Winter. Like a desert, like cotton, like _home_. That's what the Protector represents. Peace, security, comfort."

"This is insane..! I'm already struggling to take care of myself. How can the..Nature, for God's sake, could believe that I could have anything comforting?"

"Aren't you the boy who sacrificed himself to make sure his loved ones could live in peace?"

"Yes, but..."

"So is it." 

So it is. This is one of the ways Dryad had of ending conversations. With a sigh, Stiles also let himself fall on his back, in the grass still wet by the morning rains. Far from caring, however, he put his arms behind her head, his eyelids half closed, observing both the sky speckled with clouds while remaining lost in his thoughts. The ball of hair nestled against his flanks wiggled for a moment, before coming up towards him to settle in the hollow of his neck. Stiles pondered how strange it all was. He was lying in the forest, surrounded by animals, like... Snow White. He was a damn Snow White. Was he going to start singing soon?

 _Human. thinking too. much,_ whispered a voice into his head, or against his ear, he didn't know much anymore.

"I'm sorry," he said.  
  
And he was. 

A muzzle rubbed against his cheek and soon the animal was asleep. And with no idea why or how, Stiles suddenly felt like crying. He did not know why. Happiness? Or melancholy? Or sadness? Maybe weariness. It was a sudden overflow of emotions, which his body evacuated as best it could. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had come looking for answers and found himself with all the more questions.

At the edge of the forest, a fox stood up, its clever look on the teenager's silhouette. The human had understood Eurydice's half-words. It remained to be seen how he would evolve, right?

"Hey Stilinski. Oh. Hey!" growled something - or someone, rather. An unidentified thing violently hit his shoulder, enough to awaken the human suddenly, a scream on the tip of his tongue.

"Wh-outch... Dude!" he shouted back, rubbing the painful area with the flat of his hand.

In front of him, Isaac Lahey raised his eyebrows, a mocking look on his cherubic face.

"Why in hell are you sleeping in the middle of the forest?"

"I don't...

Stiles lost his words as he let his eyes roam around the clearing, convinced that the wolves would start to freak out severely when they saw all the little creatures of nature swarming around. He was surprised to find that all of them, as much as they had been, had now disappeared. The same thing happened to the rabbit who had fallen asleep against him.

"How long has it been..." he asked Isaac, realizing that the sun seemed much less bright - non-existent in fact - than at noon, he lifted his head from the smartphone he was playing on, turning the screen towards the human at the same time.

 **3:19 p.m.** , the device indicated.

"Shit."

"You damn right. Do you have any fucking idea how long it took us to find you, you moron?"

"l... What?"

Stiles blinked, his head blank. What was that again ? He didn't have time to ask for more, nor Isaac had time to answer. Rushing footsteps were heard and the teenager immediately turned his head towards the source of the noise, without even realizing that he should not have been able to hear them - not as a human.

"Stilinski!" growled one more voice.

Derek. Derek was there and walked towards him at a fast pace. He looked more than pissed off.

"Stiles!" Echoed the voice of his best friend. Soon, he saw the whole pack coming ashore, little by little, running towards him. "Are you alright? God, did Deucalion do something to you? Damn it Stiles, say something!" Said Scott.

Lost. Stiles was lost. How the hell could he have ended up in a forest in the middle of the night? Derek's hand crashed on the back of his neck and he squeaked like a trapped mouse. The Alpha immediately started sniffing him, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Where the hell have you been? We've been looking for you for hours!" he grunted.

Scott, who was now convinced that he had been tortured, mistreated and even more.

"He didn't say a fucking word. Derek, why doesn't he say anything! Did they hurt him? Did they hurt him? Why the hell doesn't he say anything! Oh my god, say something ?!

"Something?"

There was a sudden silence and then a cry of pain, mixed with loud protests. Stiles rubbed his shoulder, annoyed, not without thinking that the whole _"let's hit Stiles_ " was becoming far too recurrent. The wolves - the banshee and the huntress included - kept talking over each other.

"Oh my god, just shut up!" Shouted Stiles after a while. "What the hell is wrong with y'all ? Coming out of nowhere, all you do is shouting and yelling all at the same time. It's weird. You guys are weird. It creeps me out. Why would you go out in the middle of the night anyway?"

Silence, again. Then Isaac proceeds to lose his shit.

"Okay, never mind, I'm just gonna kill this motherfucker," he said harshly.

Scott growled like a dog at whom you stole a bone.

"Shut up, Lahey,", he said before turning to Stiles. He stared at him, confused too. "Stiles, man. You disappeared suddenly this noon. No one was able to find you until now... And, well... And, uh.."

"Boyd and Erica have been abducted by Deucalion," hissed Isaac.

That had the merit of calming Stiles down. He fluttered again.

"What?" He croaked weakly.

He felt Derek and his hand on his neck. He felt a pressure against his skin. Then it was gone as was Derek and his hand.

"He does not smell like them."

There were relieved sighs, released in perfect sync.

"Then what happened to him ? Stilinski ?"

Boyd and Erica. Stiles closed his eyes for a while, thinking, thinking. They had disappeared, abducted by Deucalion. If he had been stronger... Things happen because they have to happen, child, he heard Eurydice' say back in his own head. From the corner of his eye, he saw a face appearing withing a tree further away, a face that disappeared as quickly as it had shown itself. The void he felt in his heart did not soften at all. What was that supposed to mean ? He didn't like it. Neither did the way Isaac came to molest him.

"It's because we cared about the human of the band that they were taken away!" He shouted, voice sounding like someone who just lost a part of himself. "Why does everything always fucking happen around him?"

Derek growled. "Isaac !" in a severe tone before grabbing his beta by the neck. He pushed the teenager away from Stiles, keeping him close, nearly hugging him. But it was Derek, remembered Stiles. Hugs weren't his thing.

"I didn't..," he managed to say before being cut out.

"No you didn't. That's my point. You ain't no _wolf_ . You're unable to _fight_ nor to keep yourself _safe_. How are we supposed to look after the pack, the wolves for God's sake, if as soon as a psycho comes in town, these same wolves all have their eyes glued on the human?!"

"That's _enough_ , Isaac," said his Alpha..

Stiles took it all like a champ. Alas, Isaac didn't seem like he was done. His eyes shone with a lupine glow, as much as with held back tears. Stiles always knew that Isaac was the kind of guy to act like a rock without even having a part of villainy inside him. Thing is, stone crumbles. Stiles wished he'd never seen it. The fragile boy laying underneath all that suffering, all that pain.

"... and what were you doing, huh? While everyone was moving heaven and earth ? What the hell were you doing ?"

"I was.."

He suddenly fell silent.

 _You can't say anything_ , said the voice he knew well now. Whether it was Eurydice or the Nature itself- or even Gaia, it didn't matter. Stiles did not understand. _You have to protect the Magic of Gaia. Bear it. Not share it._

 _It's not fair,_ he heard himself think. _They're my friends... Why shouldn't they know? Knowing that you're helping me master all this, preparing me for the next moon?"_

_You said it yourself, Child. You want to protect them. If you wanted them to know, you never would have called Gaia that night. Because that's what you want to protect them from. From death, from sadness, from loss. And you know they would never have let you._

_So what...?!_

_Be a good Guardian. A good Protector. Too many people already know what happened that night. Leave the wolves out of it. If you want them to live, all of them, they'll have to stay out of that._

It was his turn to cry now. Eyes full of tears, Stiles lowered his head to the ground. What was he supposed to tell them now? That he'd just skipped school all day to pay for a day off? When he had spent that same day finding out what his so-called powers could be made of? Scott's hand came to nestle on his shoulder, which he gently squeezed.

"Stiles," he said softly.

Stiles looked at him, finally noticing that everyone was staring at him strangely. Did he have something on his face?

"... When was the last time you.. ?"

He squinted his eyes. The last time he what ? He noticed that understanding was gradually marking faces, all but his own.

"Your treatment, Stiles. Did you take your medication?"

Few seconds passed before Stiles connected the dot. Then he pushed himself away from Scott, eyes wide.

"I don't need it, what the heck Scott ? I'm fine."

"Stiles. You disappeared for a whole afternoon that night and you can't tell us what you did or what you were up to! "

"For what we know, he might have just skipped classes," mumbled Isaac.

Stiles shook his head, giving a cold dead stare at the werewolf.

"I did not !"

"What is it then ?"

"I just... I don't remember, okay? I went out for some air at lunch and that was it."

"Stiles, you.."

"What ? You'd rather think your best friend went crazy? Looney-Stiles? How does that sound? How do you think it sounds? I've got a better idea, Freak-Stiles.. !"

"That's not what he meant, Stiles...," Lydia mumbled softly as he stepped forward.

Allison nodded behind her. She had been silent the whole time. And Stiles knew it. He knew Scott didn't think he was crazy, probably just a little lost without his adderall.Eurydice was right. Or at least she had made that clear. Neither of them should know. So even if it meant looking like a madman... He finally straightened up, made sure his car keys were nice and tucked away in his jeans pocket, and started walking away.

"Where do you think you're going?" Growled the Alpha as he grabbed him by the arm.

Stiles got away easily, to the wolf's surprise.

" _Home_ ," he said. "You know, the sheriff's house, which you're _not allowed_ to enter, let alone through _my damn window?_ "

He ignored the astonished noises of the rest of the pack, and ran away, not without ignoring Scott.

Thirty minutes later, after reassuring his father that, not his "argument" - an excuse he had found to be able to get home with no question asked - with Scott didn't involve anyone naked and cucked (where did he get that from, seriously?), he finally took a long breath. Tears also slid down his cheeks, but he ignored them. In his hoodie's pocket, he took out a little something gray, no bigger than a fingernail, which he kept for a long time in the palm of his hand. With closed eyes, he remained standing and alone in his room for quite a while. Then he opened his eyes again before staring at his own hands and on the flower which had just grown there, in the palm of his hand, from this small seed that Eurydice had given him, earlier and what he had fallen asleep on.

 _I can see that homework are going well_ , was the only comforting words he got for this catastrophic evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you like that, as always, not an english native speaker (no shit)  
> please let me know in the comment what you thought of  
> many hugs ?


End file.
